


HIC SVNT LEONES

by ForeverFalling86



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Little Mermaid (1989)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid Fusion, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Fluff, M/M, Magic, Mermaids, Prince!Bucky, Romance, Soulmates, far too many references to historical events than should be in a mermaid AU, mermaid!steve, this is what happens when a history and poli sci double major writes fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7994257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverFalling86/pseuds/ForeverFalling86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve hadn't believed in love at first sight until falling for Bucky after saving his life. So maybe he's a mermaid and Bucky's a human: he's not going to let that stop him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flameh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flameh/gifts).



> I attempted fluff, but my hand slipped and angst/politics happened. 
> 
> The title means 'here there be lions', which was used to note uncharted territories on maps by Medieval cartographers.

The water was cold for the time of year, but one could never tell what would come in on the currents, blown in on the winds from the East. The ship skimmed across the surface, casting shadows over the sandy bottom. Steve had seen boats before, been warned away from their dropping nets that could scrap you raw, or worse, drag you up; pulled from the water never to be heard from again. Steve had never heard of a Mer going Up during his lifetime, but he heard the warnings whispered by the elders, the stories traded around the coral of brothers and sisters lost. 

But he had seen enough humans that had been brought Down, their faces and bellies bloated, with their lips blue and red eyes, dragged from their boats kicking their odd legs and screaming, not knowing that it only made the water slide in faster.

Steve had never taken a human, but knew some who had when they'd been young and curious, or a little older and greedy for the sparkling trinkets humans liked to wear or their soft hair that was so smooth when wet. They'd swim up to the surface, and it was so easy, they said. So easy, because to the humans they were myth and wonder and magic, and they loved the shine of scales that sparkled like lures in the sun and they never noticed that they were leaning, leaning, leaning over the bow of the boats within reach of grasping hands. Their voices didn't work under water, but their faces showed their screams. 

Steve had seen them in his nightmares when he was a youngling, dreams filled with scalped heads and decaying flesh stripped away from bone by the current. He'd never seen a live human up close, only their boats, gliding overhead like sharks circling, and the debris they left behind when the ocean decided to swallow them whole, leaving behind treasures of gold, bone, and hair. They looked sturdy and strong, but Steve knew what his mother could do when the mood struck. Knew the power of the ocean that could make dust of rocks and moulding splinters of once grand human ships.

Still, there was something that struck him about the humans' boats and their aspirations of taming the sea when it ate them so easily. They just didn't know when to quit— he admired that. What did it say about a race of beings that constantly tried to venture farther and farther from where they belonged, inventing new ways to adapt and conquer rather than remaining landlocked. That took guts.

"Steve. No."

Steve's gaze cut from overhead to where Sam was swimming along beside him, the bright red scales of his tail muted in the shadows. "I can see you eyeing that damn thing. We're not going up there. Not when I'm meeting Maria at the blue reef tonight."

Steve darted around his friend, circling playfully as he dragged webbed fingers along ticklish spots and then flitted away before he could be slapped.

"If we were going to check it out— which I'm not saying we are—

"Right."

" _If_ we went to check it out, we'd have plenty of time to make it back for your date."

"No, Steve. _Nope_."

"C'mon," Steve said, smiling over at Sam who hadn't yet noticed that he was slowly steering them toward the ship overhead. "We could actually see them _alive_ this time!"

"Yeah," Sam drawled, unimpressed. "Alive is great. Alive is when they can kill you."

"They won't even know we're there."

"Right, because you're an expert on humans."

"Well, I could be," Steve protested, the ship slowing getting closer and closer. "This is a learning experience!"

"Fuck," Sam swore, noticing their trajectory. "Your mom is gonna' kill you if she finds out."

"She won't find out."

"She _always_ finds out!"

But Steve was already swimming closer to the ship, odd splashes of colour lighting up the sky overhead, knowing that Sam would follow him just like he always did.

He broke the surface near the bow of the boat, the cool air prickling at his wet skin. The first breath was always the worst, the humidity of the ocean air the only saving grace. His chest heaved uselessly for a moment and he almost ducked back beneath the waves, but then something kicked in, some rarely used secondary organs finally getting with the programme, and he could breathe, albeit not very comfortably.

Sam came up beside him, grimacing as he broke the surface. "Ugh," he frowned, his voice sounding more melodic in the open air without the water to buffer the sound. " _Air_. Honestly, I don't get your fascination with the surface."

Steve ignored him and instead reached toward the rocking ship, hooking his fingers into the wood and hoisting himself up.

Steve," Sam hissed, his grasping hands only just managing to brush the edges of Steve's fin. "You crazy idiot, what're you doing?"

"Getting a closer look," Steve called down quietly, his fingers finding purchase on the deck.

Sam grumbled for a moment, but Steve knew it was for show, and sure enough, he was clambering up too, the muscles in his shoulders flexing and bunching as he lifted himself. Sam could complain all he wanted, but deep down he loved a good adventure— and more importantly, a story to tell Maria that was sure to impress.

There was music playing and humans twirling around on the deck, the splashes of colour in the sky coming from some sort of exploding sticks that the men were setting off as they cheered. They were chanting more than singing— it wasn't at all like the smooth, soothing tones that Mer would let resonate through their chests and echoed for leagues. There was something savage about it, brutal, as the rowdy men stomped their feet and clapped along, shouting to one another between verses.

From the corner of his eye Steve saw Sam rear away suddenly, falling back into the water with a muffled yelped and Steve looked down to see him flicking his tail angrily, staring up at something. He slowly followed his friend's gaze, his eyes settling on the scraggly creature that was standing about two inches from his nose. He only saved himself from Sam's fate by clinging to the wood with his nails, and quickly regretted it when the animal's tongue swiped across his face.

"Arugh!" Its breath smelled worse than the water that poured from the volcanic vents and fish combined. Whatever it was, let out a 'wuffle' of air and Steve ducked away as it tried to lick him again, shimmying to the side as best he could. It followed him easily on its four hairy legs, pressing its cold nose into his face and neck and licking the salt from his skin.

"Go," Steve hissed, desperately flailing a hand to wave it away before he had to cling back to the deck. " _Go_."

"Steve," Sam called. "Get the fuck down here! Stop letting that thing taste your face before it decides to eat you!"

The thing licked him again, this time in his _eyes_ and that was enough for him to call it a day, but before he could let go, there was a sharp whistle and the creature took off, bounding across the deck and taking its gross tongue with it.

"It's gone," Steve said, relief colouring his voice as he continued to cling and claw at the deck, his tail flailing in mid air and knocking into the hull. "You can come back up!"

Sam looked at him dubiously, his tail slapping the surface of the water. "No thanks. I'm happy down here away from hairy monster land manatees with disgusting breath."

Steve laughed, the movement almost making him slip. He looked back at the humans, still dancing and chanting, the hairy thing weaving between them only to stop at someone's feet. _Blue_ , was Steve's first thought. Not the colour of the sky or the waves, but something lighter, like the inside of a mussel's shell. The human was tall, with a build not unlike most Mer—streamlined for the water.

"Steve, c'mon!" Sam yelled, his voice almost lost in the clamour that the human's were making.

Steve ignored him, watching as the human knelt down to pet the tongue monster. His hair fell to his shoulders, and a voice deep in the back of Steve's head told him it'd be beautiful wet, told him that burst blood vessels would make the blue of those eyes even more stark, told him to call out and bring the man Down with him.

"James," a voice called out and as Steve watched the man— James. _James_ — moved away and out of his line of sight. Steve cursed as he tried to shift, to keep his eyes on James for as long as possible, to trace the line of his shoulders and memorise the pitch of his voice, but instead the movement made him slip, his fingers clawing uselessly at the deck as he fell back into the ocean, any chance of glimpsing James torn away.

Before he could catch his bearings Sam was tugging at him, trying to pull him back under and away.

"Okay, you came, you saw, now let's go before your—

There was a clash of thunder that rang out through the air and lightning flared brighter than any of the human's explosions. The music and the singing stopped at once as the sea began to churn and the clouds rolled in overhead, too quick to be natural.

"Shit," Sam said. "Too late." 

The sky above them was beginning to turn a sickly green and there were yells back up on the ship, the sound of men scurrying for cover and riggings as a torrential rain began to pound down from the heavens. The fresh water stung Steve's skin and Sam was already ducking beneath the water, tugging at Steve's fin to pull him along.

"She's pissed," Steve said, eyes trailing after that boat that was rocking violently over head.

"No, really?" Sam asked, still tugging at him persistently.

The Queen was many things to her people. She was fair, and kind, and treated all her subjects as though they were her children: with a fierce protection. But she was also from the East where tempers were known to flare as brightly as the colour of their vibrant green scales. Where the King had kept calm waters during his reign, the Queen was unpredictable, the ocean stirring up violently under the force of her mood. And when it came down to it, all of her subjects weren't her children. But Steve was.

Steve who wasn't supposed to go anywhere near the surface, especially near humans, in case they caught him up in one of their nets and decided to make a 'Mer fillet' for their dinner. Steve who maybe never listened and did what he wanted when he wanted, much to his mother's ire. Steve who wasn't sure 'Mer fillet' was really a thing anyway.

"I'm not getting grounded again," Sam complained. "My own mother doesn't ground me, Steve. But yours does. The _Queen_ grounds me. What does that say about the shit you get me in to?"

Steve winced, knowing he was right as he finally let himself be tugged back fully into the safety of the ocean and down toward the safety of the sandy bottom. "Sam, you know you don't have to—

"You're my best friend, Steve, that sort of makes you my resp—

There was suddenly a burst of light above them, flares of orange and red, and for a moment, Steve thought it was another one of the humans' toys shooting off into the sky. But it dawned on them both quickly enough as debris began to sink around them, pieces of wood and human artefacts plunging into the water.

"The storm. It must've..."

Steve nodded, watching through the haze of water as the ship burned as brightly as the sun at midday. "Do you think everyone got out alright?"

"They have those little side boats," Sam said, frowning. "Most of 'em probably got on them."

"Most," Steve said, mulling it over for a moment before he took off, easily avoiding a sinking piece of the ship's mast. "I'm just going to make sure they're alright!"

He heard Sam curse but didn't look back to see his friend's reaction. Debris plummeted through the water around him, ready for the scavengers that would pick over the ocean bottom. A glimpse of brown that he hadn't realised he was looking for caught Steve's eye— James was sinking lower and lower in a swarm of bubbles and the white fabric of his shirt. He was loose limbed and still as he made his descent, his hair swirling delicately around his face as he sank further and further away from the surface where he belonged.

Steve grabbed onto him, his nails leaving streaks of red along pale skin as he bundled James into his arms. James' eyes were closed and no bubbles left his nose or mouth, but Steve could feel the pulse of his heart like the slow beat of a drum through his skin. Only a little longer and the drumming would stop and James would belong to the ocean, belong to _Steve_. And then— and then they could—

"What, you gonna keep him?" Sam asked as he swam up, eyeing the body in his arms. Steve knew then that he'd been still too long, could feel the stuttering beat of James' heart now, struggling to keep pace, struggling to keep James alive.

"Scalp him and twist his ribs into your hair like some throwback scavenger? Keep him as a trinket? Didn't think you were the type."

Steve blinked, stopping his eyes from tracing the curve of James' jaw, the grey of his lips. "I— He's drowning, Sam."

"Yeah, that's what happens when humans get water logged. You gonna do something about it?" His voice was flat, but his eyes were tight and the tail that normally cut gracefully through the water was thrashing. Sam had never taken a human Down with him— thought it was cruel and low, like cutting off the arms of a starfish just to watch it squirm.

"I..."

" _Poseidon_ , Steve. Snap the fuck out of it! You really gonna be like one of those blowholes?"

"No. No. I—

"Then _get going_!" Sam said, his tail flailing again in agitation.

Steve shot off toward the surface, working overtime to compensate for the burden in his arms that was trying to sink him. Sam appeared at his side and grabbed hold of one of James' arms and together they dragged the human upward.

They broke the surface as together, making sure to keep James' head above the waves that continued to ebb and swell around them. Steve could feel the weight of Sam's gaze and knew it deserved it, felt his stomach twist at what he'd almost allowed to happen, just because— just because what? Because his ancestors had hunted humans like prey? Because he was so weak that he couldn't fight some primal instinct that belonged to the dark ages?

"Let's get this guy to shore," Sam grunted "And then get the fuck back home."

Steve nodded and together they tugged and pushed the human between them until they hit the sand of the shoreline. They hauled James up onto the bank as best they could, staring down at the drenched man.

"He's beautiful," Steve noted, brushed James' limp hair from his face.

"Sure," Sam said "If you like that blue, drowned look."

Steve felt a blush rising in his cheeks and Sam scrunched up his face in reply. "Okay," he started, looking disgusted, "You keep that kinky shit to yourself. And I'm pretty sure he's supposed to be breathing."

Steve looked down to find James' chest still, no air escaping from his nose or from between his parted lips. He fumbled for James' face, not sure what he was looking for as he frantically ran his fingers along a pair of cold cheeks and ears. He looked at Sam and Sam looked at him, 'how the hell do you expect me to know?' clear on his face.

"Crap crap _crap_ ," Steve muttered, shoving at James' shoulders and head, watching as it flopped back and forth. Sam leaned in, "Let me try—

And smacked James right across the face. Steve sucked in a surprised breath and glared over at his friend. "What in the _ocean_ — 

"What?! I don't know what'll help!"

"Well you don't have to hit—

"Says the guy that almost drowned—

James sat up with a horrible gasp, water pouring out of his mouth and streaming from his nose, eyes rolling in their sockets. They both swore in alarm, toppling backward with a splash and into a tangle of tails and arms. James' gaze settled on them, blue standing out sharply against the burst blood vessels that mottled the whites of his eyes and tops of his cheeks.

"Where is my ship?" His voice came in gasps and wheezes, layered with the crackle of water still in his lungs.

Steve and Sam shared a look.

"It...sunk," Steve said tentatively. James nodded listlessly, hair flopping into his face. "Well," he said, "That is unfortunate," before he tipped backward, collapsing onto the sand with a painful sounding thump. They watched for a moment, but he didn't rouse again, the only peep out of him the rasping breathes coming from deep in his chest.

Sam shimmied up the sand until he was practically looming over James. "This thing looks pathetic," he said, leaning over to stare down at James, holding a hand to feel the air flowing from his nose and pulling up his eyelids to stare into his mostly rolled back eyes. "Humans can't even handle a bit of water. How have they survived this long?" he wondered aloud, poking at James' pale cheek. "Most of the world is water, for Poseidon's sake."

"They can _swim_ , Sam."

"Clearly not very well," he said, gesturing at the unconscious man lying before them.

"I don't think lightning hitting boats is a normal thing. Cut him some slack."

Sam hummed in response, finally finished with his investigative poking and prodding. "Well, we can't just leave him here, tide's coming in. So what're we gonna do?"

Steve hesitated, looking around at the abandoned beach. There was no way they could drag him out of the tide's reach on their own. "Worse case, I have to wait with him until tide comes in and swim him back to shore again."

"The longer we're here the more likely someone sees us, Steve."

"Yeah, and sees him."

"Steve—

"Look, Sam, I can't just leave him here. If someone sees me, they see me. People have spotted us before— and not been drowned for it," he added at his friend's look. It was rare, sure, but humans thought they were legends and legends had to come from somewhere.

"So I guess we're waiting, then," Sam nodded, settling back as fully into the water as he could, the skin of his shoulders already looking irritated from the dry air.

"Uh, look, thanks, but I've—

"Shut the hell up, Steve," Sam said, exasperated. "I'm not leaving you here."

Steve felt warmth pool in his chest and smiled, settling in beside Sam. Few younglings had ever wanted to play with the youngest prince— too scared of offending him or hurting him and getting in trouble with the Queen. Sam, the third son of a minor noble, had had no such qualms, and thus had been putting up with Steve's shit since they were too young to leave the reef unattended.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it. Literally," Sam added. "Don't mention it to your mom. I wasn't here to enable you."

"Right. I was alone."

"Completely alone. For _once_ I'd like to not be grounded. For once. I mean, it's not like she actually enforces it...but it's the principle of the thing."

"Because you're a good boy," Steve teased.

" _Exactly_ ," Sam said, probably sounding more sincere than he'd meant to let Steve ever hear. "Your mom just needs to realise that."

"She's known you since you were a youngling. I think that fish has swum." 

Sam grunted unhappily, his eyes focused on the far end of the beach. Steve turned back to watch James, the waves just beginning to lap at the bottoms of his feet as the tide slowly came in. If someone didn't arrive before the tide, did that mean that no one was looking? Maybe they thought James had drowned— and if they thought that, then maybe Steve could keep him? Finders keep—

Steve cut off those thoughts. If he kept James, James would drown. You couldn't keep a human. They weren't trinkets. They weren't bobbles that fell off a ship that no one would miss and would keep at the bottom of the ocean. Humans drowned and they died and they decayed and they were _loved_ , Steve thought desperately, the sharp points of his nails digging into his palms, drawing blood that washed away so quickly only the ocean would ever know.

"Hey... is that...?"

Steve followed his friend's gaze to where a man was making his way up the beach.

"Shit!"

They both shimmied away from the shallows and into the deeper water where they'd be harder to spot, startling a few fish that had been feeding in the sunlight. Steve almost jumped out of his skin when he brushed up against a large rock that sat high enough to cast a large shadow over the surface of the water. He pulled Sam behind it and together they peaked around to watch as the man rushed up the sand to where James was laying unconscious.

"Steve," Sam said, urgently tugging him down. Steve realised he'd half climbed up onto the rock to get a good look at the man carefully hauling James into his arms. 

"Steve," Sam hissed again.

"He's gonna' take him," he said, unable to tear his eyes away. His heart ached as James was carefully lifted by strong arms, something burning in his chest telling him to follow, to crawl up onto the sand and follow until he couldn't possibly move anymore.

"For the love of Poseidon, would you get down?!"

Steve suddenly found himself pulled back under the waves by forceful hands, even as his fingers clawed at the surface of the rock, desperate to stay. "I need to—

"What you _need_ to do is hide, you idiot!"

"Sam, hey, no, _Sam!_ Please, I'll never see him again!"

Sam ignored him and continued to pull him along even as Steve tried to get loose. "Would you— Fuck, Steve!" Sam swore, reeling around to face him. "What is your deal?! Would you just calm down!"

Steve swallowed, unsure how to explain the pain in his hammering heart at the thought of James slipping away, the tingling in his fingers that longed to wind into thick brown hair and trace the sharp edge of James' cheekbones, the overwhelming sense that he needed to have Bucky at his side. Needed to be with him. There was a sharp pain as Sam clapped his hands onto his cheeks, holding Steve's face tightly in his palms. "Seriously? Get a hold of yourself. I'm not up for you winding up dinner on some table somewhere. Your mom will literally skin me."

"I— yeah. Yeah, okay," Steve said, shuddering.

"Alright? Yeah? You back with me you crazy SOB?"

"Sorry. I'm. Yeah, yeah, I'm good. Sorry."

He wasn't good. He felt sick, his heart still hammering, tears that only appeared air-side threatening to fall. 

"Hell, Steve," Sam sighed, finally letting go and swimming ahead a little. "What was that? You lost your shit."

Steve followed after his friend, swimming deeper and away from the surface— away from James. What was that? Steve had no idea. He struggled to explain as they darted around jagged rocks and the old debris that tended to gather closer to the shoreline.

"It was just...I had to see him. It felt like he fit, you know? He fits with me."

"You know you sound insane, right?" Sam asked, glancing back at him.

"I guess... The only thing I can think of is love at first sight."

It was more like he hadn't realised he was a piece of a whole until he'd laid his eyes on James. Hadn't known he was missing a part of himself until he'd been presented with the missing piece and thought, oh.

"Steve, all of that is just hocus pocus. Soul mates, bond mates, love at first sight, whatever. It's all the same and it's all barnacles. It's not real."

"Maybe...Maybe not, love you know? But something. There's something pulling me," Steve said. "It could be love one day, I guess. But I just... I know that I need to see him again, Sam. I've gotta see him again. I need to know."

Sam was still staring at him as though he'd lost his mind and Steve couldn't say he blamed him. It sounded like old magic, the kind that was just fairytales and eel oil that only children spoke of with any seriousness.

"Well, I hate it break it to you, friend, but that boy is long gone. He's up there and you're down here and unless he drowns again anytime soon, you're not gonna be together." 

Steve grimaced. "Yeah."

"So you gotta pull yourself together and smell the ocean man, cause you're acting insane. Let's just get home before we get into any more trouble, okay?"

Steve nodded and followed his friend in the direction of home, ignoring the worried looks that Sam kept shooting in his direction. Sam ducked down, reaching out, his fingers combing through the sand for a moment as they swam. He pulled back, a small silver trident grasped in his hand.

"Here," he said, holding it out to Steve: a peace offering or maybe a consolation prize. "For your collection."

Either way, the tiny trident did nothing to fill the gaping hole in his stomach or pull his heart back from the beach where he'd left it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the lovely art provided for this fic belongs to the amazing [dadbob](http://dadbob.tumblr.com/post/150150064931/art-for-codename-hawkeye-s-stucky-big-bang-fic), [Hopeless--geek](http://66.media.tumblr.com/5d13ee2b79e4f16c753994bdeac99393/tumblr_ocx3rcQVT71r66hs2o2_1280.png), and [trianglart](http://trianglart.tumblr.com/post/149961235922/i-did-a-fanart-for-the-stucky-big-bang-its)
> 
> I was cruel in telling them I would embed their art, but once I realised I'm completely incapable of figuring that whole dance out in a reasonable time, I was quick to disillusion them. SORRY. Regardless, check their pieces out. They're fabulous and better artists than my late ass deserves.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Much pining is done and Sam isn't up for Steve's shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can hear you thinking: what the absolute fuck took so long? And the answer comes down to school, mental health, two full-time jobs, and a physical health crisis. Either way, I'm feeling a lot better mentally, and the doctors think they've cracked the secret to my apparent autoimmune disease, so I'm feeling amazing physically. The next chapter is well under way so I'm hopeful about getting it done in a reasonable amount of time. 
> 
> Warning though, I think this is going to be longer than 5 chapters. We'll see how it goes, but I'm playing this fast and loose.

By the time they had passed into the outskirts of their community, the waters were once again calm, but Steve knew better than to expect his mother's mood to be improved. Even though the sea had calmed, a chill had come in on the current, sending creatures of all sorts back into their caves or under the sand for warmth.

As they drew nearer and nearer to home even Sam fell quiet, anxiety written plainly on his face. The palace was a set of towering spirals of coral, shells, and stones that loomed in the centre of everything, a living breathing entity in itself, covered in sea life that shifted and writhed, ever changing. Steve couldn't help but wonder what a land castle looked like. If it was as colourful and alive as his own home.

The guards watched them from their stations as they swam into the main hall. The men and women lining the walls of the palace always seemed more like fixtures than Mer, like they were merely an extension of the coral and brine, but Steve was quickly reminded otherwise as the whispering started, low notes almost like song carrying over the water. The news of their arrival travelled from door to door, hall to hall, all the way, Steve was sure, into the throne room where his mother was no doubt waiting.

Steve was hardly surprised when the whispering started up again, this time the message coming from depths of the castle— a reply.

Finally, the guard nearest them swam forward. "My Prince, the Queen requests your presence in the throne room."

Sam looked tempted to dart to safety but the guard motioned for him to follow as well. "You owe me," he hissed.

Sure enough, the Queen was perched on her throne— a grand thing carved from granite— trident at her side, and anger written in the lines of her face plain as day.

"Care to tell me where the two of you got off to?"

They shared a look, Sam subtly shaking his head as if to say, _not it_. Steve heaved a nervous sigh, "Mom—

"I'll save you the trouble," she snapped, tendrils of blonde hair floating around her face, escaping the net of pearls and gems that normally held it back."For the love of Poseidon, Steven, I don't know how much clearer I can make it: you are _forbidden_ from swimming to the surface!"

"I know, but—

"So you just choose to ignore me? And you drag poor Sam into it? What would I tell his mother? What would I tell her, if her son was caught by some bloody-minded humans and _slaughtered_ because you dragged him into trouble with you? He's a Mer-fillet now, Mrs. Wilson, so sorry!"

_Again with the Mer-fillet_ , Steve thought grudgingly. He was almost positive that wasn't a thing. Eighty-eight percent sure.

Sam glared at him, whether because he knew what Steve was thinking or for the entire situation, Steve wasn't sure, but either way he deserved it.

Sam started, "Your Maje—

"Quiet, Sam. Don't think for a single moment you're not in trouble. You know that _I_ know that you know better."

Sam fell quiet, suitably chastised, and slightly confused.

"Steven, come here."

The pair fumbled for a moment, Steve trying to sneakily get the tiny trident to Sam at the same moment Sam feigned bumping into him to grab it, their hands both almost dropping it before Sam managed to get a good grip and hide it between his arm and his side.

The Queen heaved a put upon sigh, a sound they were both intimately familiar with. "I'm not even going to ask."

Steve finally slunk forward, eyes downcast.

"Look at me, Steven."

His mother reached forward, her slightly clawed fingers rasping against his cheeks as she took his face into her hands. "Look at me."

Steve finally looked up, meeting his mother's gaze. The stress line between her brows that seemed to always appear when he was near looked especially deep. She was tired, he realised, guilt a familiar weight in his stomach.

He'd been an afterthought of a child— three much older brothers already grown at the time of his birth— but he knew he was also the most trying. His brothers were all strong, good Mer; and stayed in the reef where they belonged. As far as Steve knew they'd never longed to see land, never been curious about what existed beyond the realm for which they were responsible. He'd been an afterthought of a child and remained an afterthought of a prince in their shadows, but he knew that those worry lines on his mother's face were just for him, and sometimes he wished he could be an afterthought to her, if only to wash the stress from her face. But he could feel the land calling him, deep in his gut, pulling him up as though he were snared in a net, tugging at him.

"I would die if I lost you," she whispered, her words heavy with worry. "I would die."

"Mom—

"Please. _Please_ ," she hissed. "I just want you safe."

"I know," he said, nodding. "I know. But I just— 

"You have a traveller's heart," she said, her hands reaching up to pet his hair. "Like your father. But you have the entire ocean to roam. If you want to explore so much, I can send you to my family in the East—

"No," Steve protested. "I don't want to go East. I—

"Then no more swimming to the surface," she said, taking his face back into her grip, pulling him in until they were almost nose to nose. "No more getting close to the humans. Or I'll send you to your grandmother and she can force some sense into you."

Steve nodded quickly— anything to avoid his grandmother. She still fondly recounted her youth spent lounging on rocks with her sisters, spinning songs into the air to lure passing ships into the unseen crag waiting just below the surface. She continued to wear a necklace adorned with a full set of human teeth bleached perfectly white by the sun, embedded with diamonds. If she were to ever encounter James, Steve had no doubt she'd drown him like she'd done to thousands of humans before— scalp him and yank the teeth from his skull and leave him to decay until she could return and collect the rest of his bones to be inlaid with gems and pearls.

"No more humans," he nodded, the lie tasting sour on his tongue. "Promise." 

##### __________________

##### 

"So what is it?" Steve asked, shoving the tiny trident onto Fury's rock with a clang. He and Sam had managed to slip away from the palace again under the guise of spending the evening at Sam's, in the not too tender, but very loving care, of his mother.

Fury examined it with his one good eye, before pronouncing it a 'dinglehopper'.

Steve repeated the word, letting it roll off his tongue. "What's it do?"

"They use it to comb through their hair," Fury said simply, staring down his beak at them.

"That's pretty cool," Steve said, holding it aloft.

Sam glared up at Fury, his tail lashing about in the water. "Are you sure?" he asked, starting up their old argument.

Fury sat back on his perch, his feathers ruffling. "Gup, am I ever wrong?"

"How I am supposed to know?" Sam groused. 

"Is this the face of someone who's wrong?"

His single eye stared back at Sam— somehow into both of his eyes. Maybe into his soul. Steve, meanwhile, combed the dinglehopper through his hair, eyes bugging out as he ripped a good chunk from his scalp.

"See," Fury said solemnly. "It works."

Sam glanced from Fury to the dinglehopper— which was still covered in a knot of blond hair— and to a groaning Steve who was clutching at his head, then back again. "...whatever."

"Where'd you get it, anyway?"

"A ship wrecked the other day— mom was pretty pissed," Steve admitted through gritted teeth, patting at the now small bare spot of scalp on his head. "The lightning lit the whole thing on fire."

"Been hearing about that wreck for days on the land—makes sense that you two terrors were involved." 

"Do you know of it? The ship? Do you know a James? He was on board when it went down. He lives on the land, just like you," Steve said excitedly, practically vibrating.

"You're gonna' need to narrow that down, gup."

"Brown hair, blue eyes. The bluest eyes, Fury, I swear to Poseidon. I've never seen anything like 'em."

Fury blinked his one eye at them, a bird crying out loudly overhead. "Sorry, gup. Humans all look the same to me."

Steve wilted, slumping down onto Fury's rock with a defeated groan. "Maybe he lives near the ocean?" he hazarded, his nails digging into the crags and pits on the rock's surface. "Maybe he's from an important family, to be on such a big ship— probably the biggest I've ever seen."

"Not big enough to survive the storm though," Sam idly pointed out as he swam in languid circles, his eyes fixed on the late afternoon sky.

Steve glared at his friend before he continued. "He had some kinda' land manatee with him. Big ugly thing. And there was a giant narwhal on the— 

"A narwhal?" Fury asked, voice suddenly sharp.

"Yeah!"

"James with brown hair and blue eyes on a ship with a narwhal..." 

"Do you know him?" Steve asked desperately, practically clawing his way up onto the rock to get closer, ignoring how Fury took a slightly startled step back.

"No, but I know of him. Sounds to me like your James could be Prince James."

"A _Prince_ ," Steve sighed, slipping back into the water until just his blushing face was exposed to the air. "Of course he'd be a Prince. He looks just like something from a fairytale."

A prince from a faraway land, two people practically star-crossed, meeting and— 

"Steve, _you're_ a Prince," Sam pointed out.

"It's different. He's a _land_ Prince."

"Soon to be a land King," Fury said. "S'the talk of the coast. Everyone's all excited 'cause they're finally going to have a proper King. It's going to be some big production, too. Lots of boats coming in for you to get into trouble with."

Steve nodded, mind already racing. He'd heard tell that there was a castle not too far from the shore. You could see it clearly, if you surfaced in the right spot, though he'd never seen it with his own eyes. Which meant James was close. Maybe he regularly took walks on the beach. Or maybe he dipped his toes into the ocean sometimes— or _swam_. Poseidon, maybe he swam. And maybe one day Steve would be there waiting, and they could meet properly and— and what, fall in love? And then what? He couldn't last long on the surface and humans could only swim so long before they tired.

Steve stopped paying attention to what Fury and Sam were sniping at each other, instead putting his head down on the sun-warmed surface of Fury's rock, dreaming of a world where he and James could somehow meet again.

Sam eventually noticed and said goodbye for them, dragging Steve back into the water and toward home.

"I swear, Fury's full of shit," Sam complained as they swam.

"Sam, come on, exaggerate a little, sure, but what would he get outta that? Why lie?"

"To be _a dick_."

Steve sighed, having heard the argument many times before and knowing he'd hear it again, distracted with thoughts of a prince he'd never see again.

"I just don't get why you're so obsessed with what's up there," Sam said.

"I just think...it'd be nice, you know? To see the surface, see what's up there."

To know what the dry earth felt like on his skin, to see if the sky was still so blue without the water reflecting up at it, to be able to see what James saw, to understand him. What had once been an obsession with the human world now had a specific face, a name, as though Steve had been searching and waiting to meet him all along.

"What, the entire ocean isn't enough for you?"

No, it had never been, and would now never be.

"Maybe it's not," he said with a smile at his friend. "Maybe I want to climb a— a mountain. Maybe I wanna' see...land things."

"And by 'Land things', you mean Prince James," Sam said, eyeing him.

"Have you ever just looked at someone and _known_ you had to meet them? Know them?"

"Not really."

"I just wish there was a way for me to go up there. To see James when he's not, you know, half drowned."

"You seemed to like the whole half drowned thing, actually."

Steve couldn't help the flush that crawled up his neck. "You need to let that go."

"Nah, I don't think I do," Sam said, a sly grin on his face. "Anyway, look, you've just gotta put it behind you. It's not like you can just magically grow legs."

"Grow legs," Steve repeated.

Grow legs. Grow…legs. _Grow legs_. Grow legs? If he had legs, he could go on land. He could leave the ocean and walk— WALK— to wherever Bucky was. He _needed legs_ , and Steve said as much.

"Yeah, exactly, which you don't have."

"No, Sam, _I can grow legs_!"

Sam stopped, staring over at him with a look that meant he was clearly questioning his friend's sanity. "Uh, since when?"

"No, as in my mom! She could do it!" Steve said, excitedly circling him. "Are you kidding me? The same mom who tells you not to go to the surface because you'll end up on 'those savages' table'? The mom that threatened to send you out East to be with her human-eating mother? _That_ mom?"

Oh right. Bit of a snag. Steve wilted, letting himself sink to the ocean floor sadly, his half formed plans already skittering away from him.

"It's hopeless, I'll never see him again." 

His mother was more likely to make herself a set of legs and then rip one off to beat him with than ever let Steve so much as get near the beaches, never mind actually out onto the surface. And Bucky would spend his entire life on the surface, and Steve in the ocean, never to meet again. Some fairytale ending that'd be.

A passing clownfish brushed against his cheek comfortingly, her tail tickling his nose for a moment before she nipped his ear gently and swam off again. Steve heaved a tragic sigh as he wiggled himself under a pile of sand, warm, if doomed to be alone for all eternity while the potential love of his life escaped him.

Sam sunk down to join him. "Look," he started. "There's plenty of Mer in the sea, you'll find someone who's a little more compatible— the same species, at least. Though your ma might even take a dolphin if it's between that and a human."

"If there was some other way— but Mom'll never go for it."

It wasn't like he could blame her. She had good reasons to fear humans, who dumped their waste into the sea and waged wars on it, their debris and corpses littering the ocean floor endlessly, and they may or may not sometimes dine of Mer fillet when the opportunity arose. But without her help, there was no way he'd ever see James again. Magic was a heavily restricted practice in the West, the only practitioners were his mother and the occasional sea—

Steve shot up from the sand. "I'll ask the sea witch for help."

"I'm sorry, did you just say the _sea witch_?" Sam asked, sitting up from where he'd been lounging. "Because I've gotta be mistaken. Because even you're not that big of an idiot."

"Sam—

"No, no. No: 'Sam', because _Sam_ is right. That kinda shit always bites everyone in the tail, Steve! There's always some catch. That's what a sea witch _does_. They trap you in some dumb contract and you end off worse than you were to begin with."

"I'll make—

"I'm pretty sure everyone who's been fucked over by one has said the same thing: 'it'll be different for me. I'm smart'," Sam whined, his voice cast high and nasally in a very clearly _inaccurate_ mimic of Steve's voice.

"And truthfully, man, the fact that I've gotta explain to you why this is a dumb idea is mind boggling to me— because up until you met this human dude, I was pretty sure you were mostly sane. Ship chasing? Sure, why not. Wreck diving? I guess, generally pretty fun and I like sparkly crap as much as the next Mer. That obsession you had with baby squids?—

"I stand by that, they're adorable."

—I could put up with. But this is crossing a damn line. I'm drawing a line in the sand, okay? I didn't know I had a line, but this is it and I'm drawing it, so no, no sea witches."

"Just— just think for a second, okay? This might be my only chance to see this through. It's my only chance to see James again and find out if this feeling is right— if we're really meant to be together."

"I would think, that the fact that you live in the ocean and he lives on land? Yeah, I think that's a sign that it _ain't gonna work out_." 

"But you can't know that for sure. This feeling—

"YOU CAN'T MAKE A DEAL WITH A SEA WITCH OVER SOME BOY BECAUSE OF A _FEELING_ , STEVE! THAT IS ABJECT STUPIDITY!" 

"It's not if we're really meant to be together!"

"POSEIDAN. What are you gonna' trade, huh? What? You gonna' walk in there and say hey, he falls in love with me or I die? Is that your plan?"

"That'd be stupid."

"This whole idea is stupid!"

"I'll make sure it something that isn't huge, okay? I won't make the deal if it means me _dying_."

"That's a really loose parameter, Steve. A lot of things aren't dying but still really fucking suck tail."

"What's it hurt to go see the witch, huh? See what's what, maybe I'll make a deal, maybe I won't."

"You don't go to a sea witch for a damn consultation. I'm not kidding here, if your mum finds out she'll never let you leave the reef again. She will spear your fins to the coral."

"Sam, I know you don't approve," Steve said, taking his friend by the shoulders and gripping him tight. "But I'm doing this. The only question is whether or not you're gonna come with me."

Sam shoved him away with a growl, looking livid as he crossed his arms and glared. 

"Well?"

Sam huffed, shaking his head. "When do we leave?" 

##### __________________

##### 

"Dum Dum, I _swear_ to you, he was real! He—

"Who was real?"

Bucky looked up from where he was bundled in blankets and propped up with dozens of pillows, Dum Dum seated in the chair at his bedside. The doctors had been quick to send him off to bed once he'd regained consciousness and shown no signs of otherwise ill health, but since waking, Bucky had been too excited to sleep— much to Dum Dum's annoyance.

"Lord Pierce," Dugan said as he stood in greeting and lowered himself into an impressive, if stiff, bow. Bucky could read the reluctance on his face but the mustache hid many sins and Pierce accepted the bow and greeting with a nod.

"The Prince was just telling me of his saviour."

"Ah, yes, your mysterious stranger who appeared from the sea and vanished without a word," Pierce chuckled, brushing aside the tails of his jacket and taking the armchair Dugan had vacated. "A fantastical vision, to be sure."

Even the monstrosity of a mustache couldn't hide the offense on Bucky's behalf that appeared on Dum Dum's face, and Bucky felt the usual low boiling anger start up in his stomach, the one that always seemed to appear at the sight of Lord Pierce's patronising smile. Dum Dum's concerned and friendly prodding, he could take, but the Lord's smile could make milk curdle and horses go lame.

"He was real. Whether or not you choose to believe me has no bearing on that fact," he said simply.

The Lord's smile became more strained as they stared each other down and in that moment, Bucky was sure they were both well aware of the thin layer of tolerance the other held for them. When he'd left to study abroad, Bucky had thought of Lord Pierce as a kind— if proud— man, but when he'd returned— educated, older, and an orphan, the patina had rubbed away, and he'd been confronted with a controlling man who so clearly hated him it was stifling.

Yet, Pierce had the most infuriating way of dancing along the line of propriety without ever quite doing so— of flirting with misconduct with a smile and a bow that was unquestionable. There were days when Natasha's earnest suggestion that he simply behead Pierce and put an end to his troubles, would have been all too tempting if not for his position as Lord Protector. He may be Prince, but Pierce was all but the King. Still, that would soon end, Bucky thought, smiling.

"Is there something amusing, James," the man in question asked, his voice cast high as though he were humouring a small child.

"Just pondering the nature of time. And how quickly it runs out," Bucky drawled in return.

To his credit, Pierce didn't flinch, simply nodded, and gave his charge a kind smile that Bucky did not believe for a single moment.

"I know how you chafe under my authority, James. I should expect nothing less, given the circumstances of your…upbringing. But know that I only aspire to do what is best for you and for your subjects."

"Of course," Bucky replied, trying to be diplomatic but he seemingly had not quite succeeded if the snort Dum Dum let escape was anything to go by.

"And on that note, I must discuss an important matter with you. In _private_ ," he added with a terse look toward Dum Dum.

Bucky's mood soured further as he and Dugan shared a grimace before the other man was forced to bow and make his leave.

The quiet that followed the soft bang of the door shutting was a heavy, breathing thing. Lord Pierce relaxed into his seat, the rigid line of his shoulders falling away as he seemed to uncoil like a great snake.

"We must speak regarding your impending marriage."

Bucky instantly straightened, on guard. Impending wasn't a word he would have used. Eventual, surely, but impending had a sense of urgency that he would not have associated with it quite yet.

"I will marry when the time— and person— is right," he said, hesitated, and then amended, "Though I know time is an issue. I had thought, perhaps, that Natasha's brother—

" _No_ ," Pierce snapped— something that few others would dare to do in Bucky's presence— his hand slamming down onto the armrest of his chair hard enough that his rings would surely have gauged the wood. "I will not have you marry that Romanov puppet. You are already far too close to that wretched line."

Bucky balked at the man's open hostility. "If I must remind you, _Lord_ ," he spat. "We are at peace with the Romanovs and they are my friends, beside. So I pray you watch your tongue."

Pierce leaned back in his chair, running a hand down the front of his suit to calm the wrinkles that had formed. The flash of anger had smoothed back into apathy just as quickly as it had appeared, disappearing just as easily as the wrinkles in the fabric of his suit.

"Peace is one matter, a merging of the lines is quite another."

"Who would you have me wed? We are already so tightly bound with the Proctors. An Odinson?"

"Prince Thor is in direct line for the throne," Pierce said dismissively with a flick of his hand. "And Loki is an illegitimate bastard who is said to practice black magic. He will be burned at the stake soon enough."

"Prince Anthony is betrothed to wed this spring," Bucky said. "If not a Romanov or an Odinson, of our allies, who remains?"

"I have begun to make arrangements on your behalf," Pierce began.

_Ah_ , Bucky thought, _so it begins_.

"As you know, Brock is unattached and has a strong reputation within the kingdom and beyond."

Bucky frowned, thinking. The only Brock he knew of was _Rumlow_. He cast about, wracking his brain for another Brock of which Pierce could possibly be speaking. He'd never heard of any Lords named Brock before— it was a rather _Common_ name. His mind of blank, the only face coming to mind that of Rumlow. "My mind is drawing a blank, the only Brock I can think of is Rumlow," he admitted with a laugh.

"Is there another Brock to which we are both acquainted?" Pierce asked, steepling his fingers in front of himself, the picture of calm assurance and authority.

Bucky stared, dumbfounded. "But…Rumlow? _Rumlow_?"

"All those years of elocution lessons were clearly not wasted upon you, James."

"He is but a knight," he said, grasping for words. A knight and an irredeemable scoundrel the likes of which Bucky was loath to have in his company— never mind _wed_.

"He is a Grand Cross of the Order of the Crown. Very few would call him _but_ a knight."

"My horse is of better breeding," Bucky snapped, still reeling from the very suggestion. Brock was a man raised up from a bush knight, a good for nothing no-account, at heart. A good knight, perhaps, but of terrible stock. To marry someone of such low standing was simply not done— it was unheard of.

"I will not bind myself to someone so low," he growled, shoving himself out from his pillows and throwing back the covers. He would _not_ have this conversation looking like an invalid.

"Your mother's brother is ill— fatally so, I'm afraid," Pierce said apropos of nothing, as if the news were meaningless, simply another card to be revealed. "He is without issue or heir. His title will return to the Crown and I believe Rumlow has earned the position."

"My Uncle is the _Earl_ of Granbury," Bucky said incredulously, shoving himself from the bed and forward until he was looming over Pierce. "Rumlow cannot possibly—

"Brock has more than earned the title," he said, uncowed.

"A knight may gain title, but—

" _Enough_ James. Would you have me create a new title? Further dilute Crown lands?"

Bucky hesitated.

"Brock may be not be of particularly noble birth, but to marry one of the commoners raised up will endear the Crown to the people."

"Do you imply that my people do not already adore me? They live in peace, and pay little to the Crown— they fall to their knees at my feet when I walk through their streets. They beg that I lay my hand upon them so that God might hold them in His favour. My people adore me," Bucky seethed.

"You have no grasp of how I shelter you, James. The storms I weather in the name of the Crown."

"If the role of Lord Protector has become a burden which you are incapable of bearing, you must only say so, _sir_."

"Do not play the child, James, it is beneath someone of your station. You know nothing of your country—Do not think the Court or the commoners have forgotten your foreign inclinations. Already there are whispers that you are ill suited. Talk of a Pretender in the North who may rise given the chance."

"What claim could a Pretender have," Bucky scoffed. "I am my father's blood and his chosen heir."

"And what of _your_ heir?"

"I have already decreed George to be my heir. And my sister—

"Is a bastard," Pierce finished. "Legitimised by your father's will or not, that is how the people think of her. Which renders George the son of a bastard princess and a foreign father— and an enemy no less."

"Rebecca's marriage sealed the peace treaty," James laughed. "We have no fight with the Proctor line."

"Peace is _temporary_. The people will not accept a foreign born and educated heir—

"He will be brought to my court when he is old enough to learn the ways, just as I—

"Just as you were _supposed_ to be. As we both know, James, events may pass that bring even the best-laid plans to ruin. If you die before George may shore up support within the Court, who would take your place? Your uncle has no heir, your father was an only child. You have already said you would reject another Council or Protector."

"They have no right to rule," Bucky snapped.

"Rebecca," Pierce continued, unperturbed, "Will find herself overthrown at best, if she were to attempt to take the Crown. Brock can be trusted to rule alongside you— he has proven his loyalty to the Crown, to the people. The Common children pretend to be him. He is a hero. Where you have been educated in statecraft, Brock is well versed in warfare. Together, you will be formidable. Should the worst come to pass, granting him Crown Matrimonial would allow him to hold the Crown until George comes of age— the line of succession, while perhaps momentarily interrupted, would continue as you wish."

"You mean for him to be _King_ — to rule," Bucky said, aghast at the mere thought. "Only if the worst were to come before George is ready. I know your feelings—

"He has _no claim_ ," Bucky raged. "I won't allow some no-account knight become _King_. An Earl? Fine. Prince Consort? If I must. But _King_? I will not bring such shame to my line— You expect me to _trust_ that George would still be heir? Do you think we a fool? I have been chosen to be King, as my father before me, and his father before him, as it has been since the beginning of this Kingdom. Brock has been chosen for _nothing _," he spat.__

____

"You sound like a Romanov tyrant," Pierce growled, finally deigning to let his calm façade fall away. "And tyrants are overthrown. Your father fought off calls for a Parliament, but you may find yourself unable to do so. You say you'll do away with advisors? You want to rule by the right of God? Then you will need someone capable by your side— someone that will help to quell the cries of those calling for democracy and the others who would try and prevent the line of succession as you and your father have laid out. Brock Rumlow is your answer— he can be both Common and Noble— divine, and human, if you will."

____

Bucky outright laughed at that. "He will never be King, some farce of a title or not. I will not have someone attempt to rule alongside me when they have no right to do so."

____

"Do the Romanovs not rule together? Are they not equals?"

____

"They are equals from _birth_. They are equals through blood and right!" Bucky protested. "Not through political trickery."

____

Pierce scoffed. "Your stubbornness will be the end of your line."

____

"I come by it naturally," Bucky sneered. "Some would say it has saved this Kingdom more than once."

____

"Perhaps," Pierce conceded as he stood to take his leave. He smoothed out his clothes until he once again looked completely unaffected, but Bucky could see the tense line of his shoulders, hear the anger in the snap of his boots against the stone floor as he made his way to the door.

____

"But times are changing. And those who refuse to keep up oft find themselves left behind."

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you can tell, Bucky's a big supporter of Divine Right. His argument with Pierce is about as much religion as you'll get in this fic.


	3. Chapter 3

Everyone knew where the sea witch lived— far beyond the boundaries of the community where the sandy bottom turned from a beautiful off white to a dusky black lined with jagged rocks. It was the kind of place younglings dared each other to venture into late at night, but few did for fear of meeting something— or someone— nasty.

The opening to the cave was half hidden behind seaweed and bubbles coming from the volcanic vents, the water thick with the taste of sulfur.

"Steve, I would once again like to voice the opinion that this is a _horrible_ idea," Sam groaned, darting quickly around a school of fish, their jaws huge and lined with sharp teeth, leaving their faces grim and angry looking.

"Creepy cave. Creepy cave and evil looking fish."

"Don't be such a worry wart."

"I'm not being a worry wart, you blowhole, I'm trying to stop you from ruining your life."

"If you wanna' leave, you can. I'm just gonna pop in real quick—

"Shut up."

Steve pretended to ignore the way Sam was clutching his arm as they swam in, probably more to make sure Steve didn't swim off and do something dumb, than from fear.

The walls of the cave were covered in moss and seaweed, some of it almost long enough to reach from the ceiling to the floor.

"Steve, I _really really_ don't like the looks of this place."

Steve couldn't say he blamed him. Further in, sea slugs writhed on the floor along with mussels and clams that were half buried in the weeds that had been allowed to overtake everything. The further in they swam the warmer the water seemed to get and when the tunnel opened up into a large antechamber, they were quick to realise why.

A huge cauldron sat in the middle of the room, green and blue flames that could only come from magic licking up its iron sides and casting the cave in an eerie wash of shadow and light. Peeking in, it was clear that whatever was boiling wasn't water, but some thicker sludge that bubbled and frothed, the steam coming off it reeking of sulfur. The walls around them were pitted and worn, alcoves and shelves in the natural rock formations and filled to the brim with bottles and trinkets. Some of them glowed unnaturally and seemed to move of their own volition. A dismembered hand tapped on the glass of its jar, and the feeling that Sam had been right began to creep into Steve's chest. The hand twiddled its fingers— waved— at them, as though it could somehow tell they were looking.

Magic in his mother's hands had always been warm and safe— dazzling light and gold. This was something darker, something base and low that wriggled and frothed and stunk.

Steve reached out to grab Sam's wrist, eyes catching on a jar of bright blue eyes, a bowl of finger nails— the more he looked, the more he saw, and the creeping anxiety began to turn to fear.

"Maybe we should—

"Visitors? How fun."

Bright green eyes stared out at them, glowing from within the shadows just like the ones in the jar. A dark inky green, almost black tentacle appeared from the darkness, followed quickly by seven more. _I've gotten us both killed, Sam warned me and I didn't listen and now we're both going to die here and everyone will know how stupid I—_

Steve's thoughts ground to a halt as the sea witch crawled forth from one of the alcoves.

"Wait," Steve started, staring. "Wait. _You're_ the sea witch?"

The octopus shrugged."Witch it a gender neutral term."

Steve glanced at Sam who shrugged and shook his head, all trepidation replaced by disbelief.

"I think he means you don't look much like a witch. A witchling maybe. Is that a thing? A baby witch?"

A pale face had emerged from the shadows, dim light playing across high cheekbones and prominent brows, skin paper white and almost translucent from lack of sunlight, but undeniably and amazingly, young.

In the stories sea witches were fearsome and grotesque— their bodies twisted by dark magic. Steve had expected what he'd been promised—which tended to include more seduction, maybe a little evil cackling— the whole song and dance. But this particular sea witch was, honestly—

"Cute. Poseidon, you're so cute," Steve said, barely holding himself back from swimming over to poke the small tentacles.

"I'm not a baby," the witch argued, his voice high and sweet with youth as an electric eel swam out from the depths of the cave, coiling around the witch and hissing sharply, nipping at a stray tentacle.

The boy hissed back before rounding on them again, looking startlingly small.

 _He's pouting_ , Steve thought, _the sea witch is pouting_.

"Hate to break it to you," Sam started, clearly more with it than Steve who couldn't. Stop. Staring.

"But I think my arms are longer than your tentacles. There's no way you're even near full grown."

The boy— because truly, he was just a gup of a thing, probably over eight seasons younger than them—scowled, his tentacles swirling around as he pushed himself from his resting place.

"If you're going to be rude—

"Right, right. Sorry," Steve said quickly, giving Sam a shove to stop him from laughing before he got them in real trouble. Even Steve could admit pissing off a sea witch— no matter how tiny and _cutecutecute_ — probably wasn't the brightest idea in the ocean.

"I'm here for a favour. A big one."

The kid shrugged, his tentacles swirling through the water delicately as he propelled himself to the floor of the cave. "I don't do favours. _Magic_ doesn't do favours. If you want something, something of equivalent value must be given."

"What like money?" Sam asked, narrow eyed.

"Money means nothing in magic. Something of _value_ must be given."

"The Queen uses magic all the damn time, and she doesn't give up anything. It just works," Sam pointed out, his whaleshit detector sharp as always.

Steve nodded in agreement. There was very little magic that his mother couldn't do— and he suspected most of it she was simply _unwilling_ to do. He'd seen her change the flow of the tides with the wave of her arms, watched her move boulders the size of castles and cast off ships with barely a glance. And never once had he heard her mention a cost, or witnessed one himself. Magic was _magic_ , unlimited and unknowable, beyond logic and reason.

The witch grimaced, his pale cheeks colouring. "Yes, well. The trident acts as a catalyst— and the Queen is old."

"Rude."

" _Older_. Her powers are more...developed," he admitted, clearly reluctant.

"You're saying you're too little to do proper magic?" Steve asked, sharing an unimpressed look with Sam. Cute, sure, but apparently useless.

"Beggars can't be choosers," he snapped. "And if you were willing to go to the Queen, you'd be there. But you're here with me, and I make _deals_. I help make _exchanges_. It might not be as impressive as your mother's magic— and sure, I've had some complaints, but that's hardly my fault. I help all of those who come to me for aid— which I give— but everyone says they're willing to give everything until it's actually taken. And then suddenly, it's oh, _you're a monster_."

The eel hissed at them, clearly offended on behalf of his companion. Apparently, they'd touched a nerve.

"Look, kid, witch-baby, whatever—

"Loki."

"Loki, sure, _that's_ a real name," Sam snorted. "Well, Loki, if this idiot over here wanted to be a human for awhile to check out some human he's got the hot's for, what exactly, would he have to give you?"

"There's no real way to predict what it will take," Loki started with an elegant shrug. "It could be your hair, it could be your voice— the magic decides."

"You hear that, Steve?" Sam drawled. "The magic decides. This sounds like fun, doesn't it?"

Steve glared at his friend, but Sam just looked back him, unapologetic and clearly not about to take any shit— only dish it out.

"I could give you the standard package: A week on land to find true love's kiss."

A week, a full _week_ with James. But—

"And if I didn't get it?"

Loki looked slightly uncomfortable then, his tentacles curling and uncurling nervously as he plucked at a starfish attached to the cave wall. "Generally, whatever you give up is permanently taken. And sometimes your soul is forfeit— but only sometimes," he was quick to add.

"Well if it's only _sometimes_ , it has to be safe," Sam scoffed.

"So I'd get to be human for a week— but give something up in return. If I get true love's kiss, I what, stay human forever? Or do I turn back to how I am now?" Steve asked.

Loki pursed his lips and even the eel that had been swimming calmly took up an agitated pace, which didn't bode well. "Funny that, really. You see… while this is the standard deal, it's just that— oddly enough," he said. "No one's ever come back."

"So you've got no idea if they stay because they've succeeded and fallen in love and stayed human, or if they've failed, turned back and suffocated on dry land? Or succeeded, _still_ turned back and suffocated anyway?"

Sam looked practically apoplectic beside him, hands pressed over his eyes as he groaned.

"Magic is an abstract science," said with a nod.

"Steve. This. Is. So. Stupid. This is the dumbest thing in the history of the ocean. The entire fucking ocean, and sea slugs are a thing that exist. This is even dumber than that. You're gonna follow some human who may or may not fall in love with you and kiss you in time, and what, stay human forever? Leave your mom, your brothers— me? All your friends? For some guy you don't even really know? "

Guilt flooded Steve's stomach, but he was determined. "Look— Sam. I just. I know that I need to go up there," Steve said, just as desperate to convince Sam of his point of view as Sam was of his own. "All my life I've been obsessed with the surface— with humans. Mom's cried— she's yelled for days and days and been terrified that I'd get killed— I've been nothing but a burden to her because of it," he said thickly. "I make her worry when I shouldn’t! I get _you_ into trouble with me. But I can't help myself, alright? And I didn't know why. I figured I was just— I dunno, crazy. But I saw him. I've _seen_ him now," he whispered, clutching at his friend, nails digging into soft flesh.

"And I know. He's why. I've been looking for him. All this damn time— all my life. And I can't just let it go—not now. And I'm sorry I'm dragging you into my mess again, but Sam, I don’t want to spend my whole life wondering. I have to go."

"And what if you can't come back, huh? You okay with your happily ever after not having me in it? Not having your family in it?"

"If I can't turn back— I'll try and get word to mom. She'll be able to turn me back if I can't myself. And whatever I give up, if it's permanent and mom can't cure it— if I meet him, and he's what I think he is, to me. If he's the one I'm meant to be with. Isn't it worth it? Isn't trying and failing worth it if it means I finally know?"

"Steve, this is insane. Even if your mom can change you back, it's a huge risk," Sam said, shaking his head. "I can't let you go up there— 

"You don't have to let me do anything. I’m going to do it."

"Then I'm coming with you," he said, nodding to himself and looking adamant. 

"Sam, no."

"What, it's fine for you, but not for me? I don't know if you’ve noticed, moron, but you're my brother. And I've been watching your tail since I can remember. You think I'm gonna let you go up there and maybe die and I'm just gonna stand by?" he said, shoving Steve so hard he slammed into the cave wall.

"What if you don't come back, huh? I'm just supposed to say goodbye? See you every once and a while when you can go for a swim? No, you'll need my help, so I'm going."

"What— what deal would you even make? "

"I dunno, whatever happens to your stupid tail happens to me too. Makes about as much sense as your deal does." 

"That's a little more complicated than it sounds," Loki piped up. "A deal dependent on another… a domino effect, it's a very complicated process."

"And what, you can't pull it off?" Sam said, rounding on him.

Loki slunk back slightly under the weight of Sam's glare.

"Hey, come on," Steve said gently, pulling Sam back. "He's just a kid. He's learning."

"Yeah, so maybe you shouldn't—

"Sam. I'm doing this, okay?"

Sam glared.

" _Okay?_ "

Sam finally nodded, clearly reluctant. "But if you don't get in touch with your mom as soon as that boy falls in love with you to set up a visit for me, I'm going to crawl up onto land, legs or no, and strangle you myself."

Steve found himself wrapped tightly in Sam's arms, his own quickly coming up to wrap around him in return.

"I promise."

Sam thumped him on the back a couple times before finally pulling away, worry etched on his face.

"Alright," Steve said, turning to Loki. "Let's do it."

"If you're sure…"

"I am."

Loki quickly took to bustling around the cave, yanking bottles from shelves, and tossing them into the cauldron, glass and all. Thick vapours of varying colours began to rise from its depths, the smell noxious in the small enclosure of the cave. Loki glanced in occasionally, frowning at what he saw and swimming off to retrieve something else, but eventually, when a bright sickly green smoke billowed out, he leaned back, satisfied with whatever potion he'd created.

"Alright," he said. "Let's give this a go."

"Give it a— how many times have you done this?" Sam asked.

"More than you'd think," he shrugged. "Less than you'd hope. Now," he said, addressing Steve. "Before we get started, you'll need to sign the agreement."

With the wave of a small hand, a brilliant gold contract materialised in front of Steve's nose, the shine coming off it almost blinding in the otherwise dark cave. Steve plucked it from in front the water in front of him, squinting down at the gold on gold writing.

"I assure you it's the standard contract," Loki said, voice light. "One week as a human, true love's kiss, etcetera. Just sign on the dotted line."

"There's a lot of fine print," he grumbled, Sam leaning over his shoulder to read along with him.

"Wait, he can't tell James about the spell? Why the hell not?"

A sly smirk appeared on Loki's face, twisting it from youthful and frail to something dangerous. "It can't be _that_ easy, can it? Where'd the fun be in that?"

"Steve," Sam started. "This is way more complicated than —

Steve snatched the glowing quill from in front of him, signing his name with a quick flourish.

"Too late now."

And with that, a green haze overtook Steve, blocking him from Sam's view. 

The green quickly gave way to more gold, and it glowed so brightly Sam had to shut his eyes against it, and even then, stars burst behind his lids like supernovas. The water was heavy with magic; heavy enough to almost muffle the sound of Steve screaming, but even then, Sam could hear it, could hear his friend suffering somewhere in the golden haze.

"Steve! _Steve_!"

Steve either couldn't hear him over his own screaming or was too caught up in the pain of whatever the magic was doing to him to care. All the times he'd pulled Steve out of trouble— all the times he'd promised himself he'd protect the idiot from himself. And now he'd gone and let him do the stupidest thing he could think of and it was going to kill him. He'd let the prince's own stupidity get him killed.

The glow began to dim and Sam opened his eyes to find a small human where Steve had been, pale arms and legs kicking and clawing about widely.

"Who the fuck is that?" Sam asked, panic growing. "What did you do with Steve?"

"Interesting," Loki said idly, as if looking at a particularly intricate shell.

Sam looked back at the human with his spindly limbs that looked like they'd snap at the lightest hit and ribs visible through his skin, realisation hitting him like a wall. Holy shit. _Holy shit_. It was Steve. Tiny guy was Steve. Huge Steve. Steve who'd once fought off a shark.

Tiny Steve was thrashing about in the water, a look of panic on his narrow face.

"Air. He needs fucking air," Sam panicked, ducking under a flailing arm to latch onto his friend.

"Humans generally do," Loki nodded, seemingly not at all concerned with his customer dying in front of him.

"What the hell is your problem?!" Sam screamed. "You couldn't've waited until we were near the surface?!"

"The contract never said anything about ensuring he made it to the surface _alive_ ," Loki shrugged, gently petting the eel that'd settled at his side.

"You're a blowhole you know that," Sam shouted over his shoulder as he began to haul Steve down the tunnel towards the mouth of the cave, the weeds and vines seeming to almost purposefully grasp onto his tail as if to keep him there.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you?" Loki called back, his young voice high and sweet and filled with laughter that sent chills down Sam's spine. "Never trust a witch!"

## _______

He broke the surface with a gasp, his lungs singing with a relief he'd never felt before. Air, breathing proper air without the deep pain he'd always felt, was like a revelation previously unknown to him.

Sam was holding him up, shoving and tugging him desperately toward shore as Steve flailed uselessly, almost kicking Sam in the face.

"You owe me so much, Rogers," Sam hissed as he ducked around wayward limbs. "I've put up with your reckless shit since we were gups, but this is a new low. I told you witches were bad news— even the cute little ones!"

Steve nodded, his racing heart and hitching breaths making it impossible to answer.

"You'd better know what you're doing."

Steve had no idea what he was doing.

His new legs were still aching with the agony he'd felt— as though he were being split apart by a hot knife. His mother's magic had never caused pain— only brought relief from it, so maybe pain was something owed, something Loki's magic demanded as payment for services rendered. Speaking of—

"Wha'd it take," he slurred, tongue thick in his mouth. "Sam— Sam. Wha'd it take?"

Sam was quiet as he continued to drag him along, bringing them closer and closer to the shallows.

Terror began to build in his chest.

"Sam. Sam, what'd it take," Steve asked again, trying to sound firm, but fear had slipped into his voice. He still had his eyes. His tongue, his arms, his voice, his nose, his hand—

Steve held up a shaking hand to his face. His mom always went on and on about how he had his father's hands— thick and strong; hands for working. The hand in front of him, attached to him, was neither of those things. His fingers were long and slender— the kind of hands that broke easily.

"Poseidon," he cursed. "I'm— am I—?"

He looked down at himself.

"I- I'm so...small," Steve gasped, staring down at his now emancipated body, only just noticing the ease with which Sam had been carrying him along.

"Oh God, he'll never love me when I look like this. I'll be like this forever, even if I turn back!"

"Steve, Steve, calm down," Sam said.

"Look at me!"

Sam finally looked away from the ever closer shore to look at him. "I'm looking at you! You're different, but you're still you. If James only ended up loving you for your looks, that wouldn't be true love anyway."

Steve nodded numbly, feet dragging across the sandy bottom as they finally reached the shallows.

"What if I never turn back?"

"Staying small forever wouldn’t be the worst possible ending for this shit show," Sam pointed out, propping him up until Steve was essentially standing in the water, his new toes wriggling in the sand as he tried to find his balance.

"Okay, are you good? Breathing okay? Got all your toes?"

"How many am I supposed to have?"

"I dunno."

Steve grabbed hold of Sam's shoulder and gingerly lifted a foot above the water. "Well I've got ten. Think that's right?"

"Seems excessive, but humans are weird. But you're okay? Not gonna drop dead?"

"I look like it," Steve groused. "But I feel fine. Sore. But fine."

"Okay," Sam said, practically collapsing onto Steve. Steve, new to his feet and now tiny as all hell was almost taken down with him, but managed to lock his knees— _knees!_ — and kept them both up, wrapping his arms around his friend and holding on tight.

"Sorry I scared you."

Sam nodded into the crook of his neck. "Better be."

They stood like that for a second until Steve began to waver under the weight of him. Sam finally pulled back, the panic gone now, but the worry still plain.

"I can't stay for long in case someone comes, but I'll make sure you make it up to the shore okay? I'll stay close until you find someone. If you need anything— _anything_ , just send a fish, okay? And I'll come."

Steve nodded. "I will."

"I know this is like, an impossible task for you, but can you _try_ not to do anything stupid?" 

"I can."

Sam grimaced knowingly. "Right. Okay. Be safe. Don't die because your mom will kill me."

"Will do."

Sam took a deep breath and nodded before sinking back beneath the water, out of sight but not gone, Steve knew.

He just had to get to the shore. That was the first step. Get to shore, find James, fall in love. Easy.

He wobbled and tripped his way toward the sand, the waves buffering him about and almost sending him face first into the water, but he was walking. Like a _human_. All the years he'd dreamed of seeing the surface and it was finally happening. Years of wondering and longing were finally paying off. And best of all, James was someplace close by, had been all along, just out of sight. 

And he could finally know for sure if humans actually ate Mer fillet, he thought as he finally clambered up onto the shore.

Dry sand was rough, he realised, reaching down to run his fingers over it and almost toppling over into it. With a bit of pin-wheeling he was steady again, and he knew that somewhere out in the water Sam was probably watching him in exasperation.

He turned and waved goodbye, smiling wide so that his friend could know he was alright.

"Good God, man. What do you think you're doing?"

Steve froze.

Shit.

He turned to find a woman standing a little way up the beach, her hair and loose white blouse whipping in the wind. She held her shoes in her hand, clearly out for a walk along the shoreline.

"Well," he started, trying to find the words as his eyes drifted down to his new appendages that were on show for all to see.

"This— has to be shocking— 

"I tend to reserve that word for actually shocking things. Like dogs that can do particularly daring tricks. A man making a fool of himself in the nude is hardly worthy of it. Just put on your clothes and be on your way before you freeze to death."

Steve hesitated. "About that. I don't actually have any. Clothes, that is."

The woman frowned for a moment, her eyes boring into him before she cast them skyward.

Steve recognised the look from his own mother's face when he'd done something particularly annoying.

"Come on then," she said as she started back up the beach. "I really must be off."

Steve remained frozen in place.

"Do hurry up," she called, impatient. "You may be new to this, but humans tend not to stand about on the beach in the nude for any odd passerby to gaze upon."

Steve remained frozen in place, staring at her in shock.

"Did the witch neglect to give you the ability to walk? Or do you come by this uselessness naturally."

Steve continued to gawp. "You— I— I mean, you _know_...?"

The woman rolled her eyes again and carried on her way, clearly intent on leaving him behind.

"Hey," he yelled. "Wait!"

The woman didn't turn around but instead continued on her way, simply waving for him to follow.

Steve dashed up the beach after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left comments and kudos- it means the world to me!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's probably typos out the ass, but it's 2 AM and I just wanted to get this up as soon as possible.

The curtains were drawn tight, blocking out the light from the rising sun that would engulf the room in an unbearable heat. A table was set down the centre of the room, attended by high backed chairs, each filled.

"We should first discuss the unfortunate matter of Lord Phillips' death," Lord Zola piped up from where he was slouched in his seat, his spectacles slipping low on his nose. "His daughter was quite adamant that he was set upon not even a twenty-minute ride from his estate."

"Thieves, then?" Lord Fury asked.

"He had no valuables on his person and this was the main road, not some backwater valley or forest trail. Why in heaven's name would a band of thieves take upon him? Never mind, in broad daylight on a well travelled road."

"You believe it to be someone else?" Lord Stark asked, voice dull and uninterested as he fiddled with a mess of metal in his lap.

"If not thieves, then who?" Zola asked, eyes wandering the table.

"Lord Zola has struck upon something important, I believe," Lord Pierce began from where he sat at the head of the table. "Are Lord Phillips' lands not quite close to the northern border?"

"Within half a day's ride. Surely, given our recent history, you do not suspect..." 

"The Romanovs have been aggressive in the past," Pierce noted with a shrug. "They have always wanted to encroach upon our territory."

"But why target Phillips of all people?"

"Perhaps he stumbled across a Romanov party heading south. An unfortunate coincidence."

" _Why_ dare to cross the border uninvited?" Lady Hill, the only woman sat at the table, asked, her voice doubtful.

"I do not pretend to understand the minds of those tyrants, but perhaps…they were not uninvited," Pierce hazarded.

"Positing that they were not uninvited implies you suspect someone of extending the invitation. Do you have someone in mind, Lord Pierce?" Lady Hill asked.

"It is far too early to attempt to cast blame, my lady," he said with a shake of his head.

"All of this assumes that the Romanovs truly breached the border. I require proof before I am willing to entertain this discussion any further," Lord Pym grumbled from his seat. "We have other business to which we must attend, besides. Namely, a new council member to take up Lord Phillip's seat."

"Ah yes, I do have someone in mind," Lord Pierce said.

"Oh, but of course, you do, my lord," Lady Hill sneered, wine in hand. "And who might be the lucky gentleman?"

"I was entertaining the notion of Lord Sitwell."

"Ah yes, I have had my own dealings with him in the past. Perhaps a mite spineless for my taste, but I am told that can be an attractive feature to some."

Lord Fury sent her an exasperated look before speaking. "I too, know of him. Spineless or no, he is even tempered and a scholar. He could make a strong addition to the Council."

"That is three, aye's. Anyone else?"

Four more voiced their agreement.

"I have no objections," Pym said. Stark finally looked up from his trinket and shrugged, unconcerned.

"Then we have a majority. I shall send a messenger to Lord Sitwell's keep in the morning."

"On to other matters, then," Lord Fury said. "For the upcoming ball, I have arranged for extra guards to be brought in from the villages to work the checkpoints and the castle. Some of your own may be called upon, if you should all be so kind as to release them of their duties and into my care."

The Councillors all nodded.

"Thank you. We are expecting record numbers. Not since the King and Queen's funeral will the city have been so full. There had been no threats issued, however, we must be cautious, as always."

"Speaking of the ball," Lord Pym began. "Can we expect an engagement announcement to be forthcoming?"

"The Prince remains…difficult," Lord Pierce sighed. "He was ever so gentle and agreeable as a boy. Now it seems as though every time he opens his mouth, all he can spew is vitriol. Vitriol and that Romanov propaganda. If I did not know better, I would say a changeling had taken his place," he said, bemused.

"A changeling?" one of the lords further down the table asked. "Surely, the boy is not so different."

"I do wonder, sometimes," Peirce said with a smile.

##### __________________

##### 

Steve sat at the table the woman— "Call me Peggy," she'd said— had shoved him toward before she had vanished into a room off to the back of her cottage, set to grab him something to wear.

"What is your name?" She called, her voice muffled through the walls.

"Uh, I'm Steve."

"And what do you seek, Steve? Wealth? Adventure? No, no, surely it must be love! It always is, you see. Nothing makes fools of men and Mer alike, such as love. Aha!"

She reappeared holding a bundle of clothes that looked old but neatly maintained. "I always keep a spare set, although," she said, considering him with a tilt of her head. "I do believe they may be rather large on your delicate frame."

Steve blushed at that, crossing his arms over his chest, as if that could hide the fact that he no longer had much of a chest to speak of.

"I meant no offense," she laughed as she handed over the clothes. He thanked her as he held the shirt up against himself and sure enough, it was too big.

"I don't _always_ look like this," he complained.

He'd never been modest— clothes weren't exactly a _thing_ in the ocean. There was a lot of bare skin to be seen. But this new body was so tiny and new. Delicate, apparently.

"I just—

"Say no more," Peggy said with a wave of her hand, taking the seat across from him."I have met many a Mer who have been changed in payment. I must say, you are rather lucky, considering. I once met a man whose tongue had been taken. Eating, speaking. Terribly difficult. And the drool…" she trailed off, a disgusted twist to her lips. "Well, it was not pleasant, to say the least. Be thankful."

Steven shucked the shirt over his head, tightening the lacing at the front as much as he could, although it didn't do much good.

"So, love," Peggy said, her chin rest upon her fist, staring at him with a smirk. "Whoever is the lucky woman?"

"Man," Steve corrected. "And it's not _love_. It's…it's curiosity. I don't know him well enough to love him."

"But you _could_?"

"Well— well, yeah," he stuttered. "I hope— I think. Probably."

"You seem like a wonderful young man. I am positive the lucky lad will return your affections. I assume if you win his hand, you will remain on land? Or will he return with you to the ocean?"

Steve couldn't help the grimace that played across his face. "Funny enough, I'm, uh, not too clear on that front."

"Did you not read the terms of the agreement?"

"I did," he blurted, defensive. "But it's… I don't practice law, you know? And contractual language is…vague," he finished quietly.

Peggy was staring, her chin still on her fist, looking decidedly unimpressed. "You signed a contract that you do not understand?"

"In my defense, it was pretty spur of the moment, and the witch— I was expecting an old hag? And instead he was a cute little octopus and it— it just threw me a little."

The unimpressed look remained.

"And," he continued, collecting himself. "I figured, if I didn't do this, I'd always wonder. I've caused a lot of trouble over the years because of how obsessed I've been with the land. And if I didn't do this, it'd all be for nothing. And maybe it'll go horribly, but if there's a chance that James is something special? That we could be happy together? I had to do it."

"Young love," Peggy said, her smile warm. "There is nothing quite like it. Drives people to do mad things. Also darling, you might want to put on the trousers."

"Oh, right," Steve said, scrambling to get his new legs into them.

"You will get used to them," she said knowingly.

"You're awfully cool about the whole Merperson thing."

"Cool?" Peggy blinked at him, clueless. 

"Uh…you're okay with it. Considering we're supposed to be a secret."

"Oh yes," She nodded, understanding. "Well, you see my family has always guarded these waters. There is a lighthouse, not too far from here that was my family's home when I was a girl. It is now much too drafty to live there, but I am still the lighthouse keeper and an Ocean Guard. Your lot have been crawling out onto this beach since before my family took this post— at least five generations. You are _far_ from my first Merperson. It seems as though one of you is always stumbling about in the nude, come to find something. I fancy myself a bit of a helper, actually. I do enjoy a good adventure, you see, and a happy ending above all else. I cannot have you turning into sea foam, now can I?"

"Sea foam?"

"A particularly unfortunate incident that made quite the impression on my great grandfather," Peggy said with an idle wave. "I am told she was a rather lovely young woman one moment and then…dissolved into foam, the next."

"Huh," Steve said, horrified.

"But darling, I am sure that will not be your fate, right?"

"Hmmm," Steve nodded, still unable to form words. _Foam. She'd dissolved into FOAM_.

"Especially with my help," Peggy said, as if that were truly the deciding factor. "Now, tell me about this lad of yours. James, was it?"

"James," Steve agreed, still trying to shake the sick feeling. "He's a _prince_.''

Peggy stared at him. " _Prince James_ is your conquest?"

"Yeah, he seems pretty…great," he said, knowing that words couldn't possibly do James any justice, just as they could never fully capture how beautiful the moon was in the sky, or the play of sun's light across the ocean floor. Great beauties were like that— they were something you felt in your core, but could never hope to describe. Still, he knew he'd try for the rest of his life, even if things didn't work out. He'd go to his grave dreaming of James' lips, of the tangled knots of his hair splayed across the sand.

"Oh you do aim high, Steve. But he is lovely. I can see why you might fancy him."

"You've met him?"

"Oh my, no. My position does afford me some wealth and respect, but even someone such as myself very rarely meets with the royal family unless they are being honoured. My father, in his younger years, was knighted for spotting an incoming Romanov fleet. However, from afar— across crowded ballrooms and the like, I have set my eyes upon him. And of course the portraits do flatter him."

"He's beautiful. The most beautiful person I've ever met."

"Pray tell, how does a Merman meet a human prince?" She asked dubiously. 

He was drowning and I saved him."

"So you looked at this half drowned boy and thought to yourself, 'oh my, how lovely'?"

"Yeah," Steve smiled.

" _Right_. Well," Peggy said, "You've come at the right time. Luckily enough, a ball is being held tomorrow night. No one will look twice at a stranger roaming the halls and if they do, you can say that you are my companion for the night."

"A ball? What's the occasion?"

"The princess just gave birth to a second son— the third in line to the throne, securing the secession and legacy of the Barnes Dynasty and the final stipulation in the peace treaty with the Proctors, after generations of war and feuding."

Wow.

"A good occasion then, for a ball."

"Well," Peggy conceded with a grin. "That and the fact that the prince is nothing if not a proud uncle, who just so happens to love to dance. Getting into the ball will be the easiest part, I am afraid. Your beloved is quite desired, Steve. Many covet his heart. You will be but one among dozens attempting to win his affection."

"That's a lot of competition." He hadn't planned on having to _win_ James' attention. Then again, he hadn't planned much at all.

"Oh, waste not your worry on the _masses_ , darling. It simply means that finding the time for an audience may prove difficult. That besides, anyone in the know is already well aware that Lord Pierce would have the prince wed his favourite pet, Sir Rumlow. The others are simply fodder in your way."

"Does James like him?"

"Sir Rumlow is brash, ruthless, and arrogant, but he has the intelligence and bravery to back it up and he excels in war craft."

"Okay, but does James _like_ him?" Steve asked again, worry bubbling away in his stomach. What if James' heart belonged to another before they even had the chance to get to know one another? _Sea foam_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Sam hissed in his head.

Poseidon, he didn't want to be sea foam. He wasn't sure if even his mother's magic would be enough to turn him back if that were to happen. Wouldn't it just be his luck, to finally find what had been calling him for so long, only to be too late in the end? Maybe they were fated to be together, maybe they weren't. Or maybe fate didn't matter much, in the end. He bet that young Mermaid could tell him a thing or two about lost love and missed chances, but her story had been swallowed by the tide.

"Like has very little to do with political marriages," Peggy said, a sad twist to her lips. "But he may just be a good match, if Lord Pierce has his way— at least, in some circles."

"It's not so different back home," Steve admitted. "Well, it _wasn't_. My parents got married for political reasons, but all my brothers are with people they love."

"Then you can understand the pressure that the Prince is under. I assume your parents are part of the nobility?"

"Uhh, yeah, you could say that," Steve laughed. "My mom's the Queen. Dad was King before he died."

Peggy choked, her chin finally slipping off her fist as she rocked forward in her seat. "Steve, are you saying that—" she caught herself on the edge of the table, her hands holding tight in a white-knuckle grip. "Well, that would make you a _prince_!"

"Yeah, the youngest in a pretty long line of princes," Steve admitted with a shy shrug. "It doesn't really mean much. I won't ever have any real power."

"Steve," Peggy said, her face slightly red and hair askew. "You're a damned _prince_."

No one had ever said it quite like that before. It generally came with more eye-rolling back home. A flare of sarcasm. 'Late again, _Prince Steven_ ', 'In trouble again, _Prince Steven_ ', 'Fuck off, _Prince Steven_ '. The way Peggy said it made it sound like it meant something. Maybe on land, it did.

"Then, why does James being a prince offer such allure?" Peggy asked. "You're a prince too!"

"But he's a _land_ prince," Steve stressed.

"A land prince," she repeated, eyes wide. "Right. Well, the first step is to find you some appropriate attire for tomorrow night."

"Yeah, a shirt that fits would be better," Steve agreed, looking down at the billowing fabric.

"Oh darling," Peggy said. "You are going to have to wear something better than a shirt that _fits_. I suppose white tie will be new to you."

"Clothes in general are new to me."

"You are about to be introduced to some of the most infernal, uncomfortable, stogy clothing that is currently known to mankind," she said with a devilish grin.

"Fun."

"You are going to look _dashing_.´ James will be simply unable to overlook you."

##### __________________

##### 

White tie really was as uncomfortable as Peggy had made it sound. Steve tugged at the bowtie sitting at the base of his throat before fiddling with his gloves. He supposed they must be nice when it was cold, but in the full heat of summer, he could make little sense of their purpose besides being pretentious. Humans, he'd learned as he'd been prodded and measured and made to look at all sorts of jackets and pants with ruffles and weaves and everything in between, were pretty pretentious all around.

Then again, Mer liked to wear so much jewellery that it made swimming difficult, so who was he to judge?

"Stop fidgeting," Peggy scolded, her arm laced through his as they waited in line to be 'announced'. "People will begin to think you have a nervous condition."

"I _am_ nervous," Steve hissed back, the woman in front of them turning to give him a scandalised look.

"Well stop," she said, as if it were that simple. "You want to make a good impression."

"I thought that's what this suit was for," Steve grumbled. 

"The suit can only do so much," Peggy said primly.

There was a commotion behind them, and everyone turned to look as a man stalked passed the line, not sparing any of them a glance. He was dressed in a dark blue uniform embellished in gold brocade, a bright red sash splayed across his chest decorated with medals. He walked with his shoulders straight, his stride long and purposeful.

"Sir Rumlow," Peggy whispered.

Steve's head snapped back in the man's direction, taking him in again. "Looks like a reef head, if you ask me. And too old for James."

Even if he maybe had nice hair and a good jaw line. And strong looking arms. And currently towered over Steve in a way that was almost funny.

Rumlow disappeared through the doors, cutting off the couple that was the next to enter. The booming voice announced him as "Sir Brock Rumlow, Grand Cross of the Order of the Crown," which, okay, sounded pretty impressive actually.

Peggy shot him an exasperated look as they were ushered forward, finally their turn to be announced.

Steve winced as they were announced as "Mistress Margaret Carter of the Most Noble Order of the Ocean Guard and guest."

'And guest' wasn't very impressive.

"Stop glowering," Peggy said quietly, nodding to someone out in the crowd as they descended the stairs into the main ballroom.

The room was impressive, the wood floors inlaid with varying patterns and the walls covered in works of gold that reflected the light from the chandeliers hanging overhead. All of the white French doors had been thrown open to attempt to beckon in the fresh night air, one side leading out to a terrace and gardens, the other to the courtyard. The orchestra was playing to one side, dancing couples twirling passed. Directly across from the stairs, a dais was set, and on it, a throne filled with a man who was most decidedly _not_ James.

"Who's that?"

Peggy followed his gaze. " _That_ , is Alexander Pierce, first Duke of Sommerville and Lord Protector of the Realm."

Steve could hear the distaste in her voice, but the rest of the room seemed to ebb and flow around the Duke, as if he sat at the centre of their world. He looked normal enough, dressed like all the other men, if maybe with a few extra medals on his sash. He had a kind face, somehow managing to seem young despite the silver running through his hair and the laugh lines that crinkled his skin.

"You don't like him?"

"Everyone likes Lord Pierce," she said under her breath, clearly not wanting anyone to hear. "He's a very likeable person. The real danger comes in trusting him. He's done very well for himself, politically. And only snakes do well in politics," she added. "Better not to trust a politician to begin with. You'll only get bitten in the end."

"I'll keep that in mind." 

"Good. This Court is a dangerous place for the uninitiated. No one here is above crying treason to remove an obstacle from their path and the smarter ones such as our Lord Pierce excel at making their troubles disappear— or have unfortunate accidents befall them. The minute you attempt to pursue James is the moment you paint a target on your back. Mind yourself, lest you be one of the unfortunate ones that the guards need to fish from the drainage pipes.

"Thanks for the pep talk," Steve said weakly.

"I like you, Steve," she said earnestly, her hand tight on his arm. "But I can already see that you have a good heart. And good hearts tend to fair poorly here. I beg you, be careful."

"I will be," he promised. "I'm just here to meet James. See if he's everything I think he might be."

"Nothing is ever so simple, darling," she said. "Now, _I_ am off to find a stiff drink to make these bores seem capable of capturing my attention for more than a minute's conversation. And _you_ ," she said, prodding him gently, "are going to find your prince."

"Right," he said, taking a steadying breath. "Right. Sure. But, okay," he stuttered. "What if he takes one look at me and just…runs in the other direction?"

"First, it would be improper for a prince to run; _second_ , you look lovely, Steve," she said warmly. "Any man worth his salt will take one look at you and fall madly in love. Prince James would be a fool otherwise. You said it yourself, you have to know. So, go find out."

She was right, of course. In the short time he'd known her, Peggy had yet to be wrong. If he didn't do this, everything would be for nothing.

"I'm done wondering," he said, excitement creeping into his voice. "I finally get to know."

His eyes roamed the ballroom, standing on his toes in an attempt to get a bit more height. He just had to find him once more, and then he'd be done looking; he'd have finally found what he'd been looking for all his life.

And it was in that moment that Steve's eyes were drawn to the front of the room, like a tide pulling him in, inescapable. Laying his eyes upon James was like the moment just after surfacing— his lungs not quite able to catch the air, his heart fluttering. James was dressed sharply in a suit far nicer than Steve's own, and even absent a crown upon his head, he looked the picture of royalty.

The light reflecting off the golden walls cast him in a glow— he looked ethereal, like something from a dream. But there he was, standing across the room, eyes casting about as if he was searching too. But the time for searching was over.

"Found you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry about how long this took. I wanted to wrap up another fic I'd ignored for awhile. But it's full steam ahead, now. Thanks for the comments and bookmarks! They mean a lot, it's nice to know I'm not just like... shouting into a void!


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